


Come Love Me Again

by SPowell



Series: Come Love Me Again series [1]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, Committed Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Sweet Revenge, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky and Hutch's new, committed relationship takes a dive when Starsky is unexpectedly injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Love Me Again

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own them; I just love them.
> 
> I am bringing this work and its sequel over from another archive. It isn't new.

  


**Come Love Me Again**

**By Susannah Powell**

 

 

 

 

_Lay a whisper on my pillow  
Leave the winter on the ground   
I wake up lonely, is there a silence   
In the bedroom and all around   
  
Touch me now, I close my eyes   
And dream away...   
  
It must have been love, but it's over now   
It must have been good, but I lost it somehow   
It must have been love, but it's over now   
From the moment we touched till the time had run out   
  
Make believing we're together   
That I'm sheltered by your heart   
But in and outside I turn to water   
Like a teardrop in your palm   
  
And it's a hard winter's day   
I dream away...   
  
It must have been love, but it's over now   
It was all that I wanted, now I'm living without   
It must have been love, but it's over now   
It's where the water flows, it's where the wind blows         _

_“It Must Have Been Love” -----Written by Per Gessle,  Performed by Roxette_

____

_Chapter One_

 

Starsky stood in the doorway, transfixed, listening to the soft, soulful voice of his partner as he sang. His long, slim fingers, so hard and capable with a gun in their grip, yet so soft and gentle when trailing on his skin, stroked the strings of his guitar, eliciting music almost as beautiful as that which the two of them made in the privacy of their bedroom. Love, warm and sweet, welled inside Starsky’s chest, squeezing his heart and threatening to turn him to goo.

It was a rare moment that he got to listen to Hutch sing. Although quite talented, his partner was painfully shy when playing for an audience, even of one. Even when that  _one_  was his partner, best friend, and lover.

“That was beautiful,” Starsky said, when the last note had died away. “What’s it called?”

Hutch jumped, startled, and put the guitar down. “Shit, you scared me, Starsk!” He stood and approached him where he stood just inside the door of their living room.

“Sorry,” Starsky said, then changed his mind, his blue eyes twinkling. “Okay, I’m not. I’m totally unrepentant. I never get to hear you sing.”

Hutch put his arms around him, kissing him long and hard, his lips soft, wet, and tasting of something sweet. “I forgive you. It’s called “Annie’s Song”. John Denver. You’ve never heard it? It’s been out for a few years now. I think I have the album, or at least the 45.” Hutch looked around as if determined to find it.

“Rather hear you sing it,” Starsky said, pulling Hutch closer and rubbing his mouth along the blond hair that curled at the nape of his neck, causing Hutch to cinch his shoulder in reaction to the tickling sensation.

“I was singing it to you,” Hutch replied, his voice pure silk in Starsky’s ear.

“That’d probably work better if I was around to hear it,” his partner informed him. “And don’t try to tell me you knew I was standin’ there.”

“Okay, I was practicing,” Hutch replied, nipping at his partner’s ear, eliciting a shiver of desire. “Wanted to surprise you with it sometime.”

Starsky pulled back a little, looking into the bright blue eyes he loved, “Really?”

“Really,” Hutch promised, and lowered his lips to kiss him again and again, deeper and longer, until Starsky groaned and pulled away.

“I’ve got groceries. Ice cream’s meltin’.” Reluctantly, he pulled out of his partner’s arms and headed for the hallway where he’d left the bags. Hutch followed and helped carry them into the kitchen. Starsky watched the blond as he moved easily from cabinet to cabinet, placing the cereal above the refrigerator, the soup above the dish washer, his steps smooth and economical. As he worked, he hummed the song he’d recently been singing, and Starsky thought that with his hair cut short as it was and his face clean shaven, he looked years younger than he had just a year ago when things had been at their darkest. He had a suspicion that the positive change in his partner had a lot to do with the termination of their careers as cops. Gone was the constant weight of keeping the world safe and the ever-present fear of losing his partner. Starsky felt the relief, too, like a choking noose had been freed from his neck. The job that they had once loved had finally become too much after Gunther’s hit, and he and Hutch had quit the force, dissolving the long partnership they had had, and slowly finding one of a different sort. And that was undoubtedly the other reason for his partner’s rejuvenation. Starsky smiled and began to help put the food away.

“You got the chicken, didn’t you?” Hutch asked. “I want to make something good for Joanie’s visit.”

“Yeah, it’s here somewhere,” Starsky answered, looking through the bags. “Oh, here it is.” He pulled the package out and slipped it onto the top shelf of the refrigerator.

“And the corn…and greens. Good, you got the dark lettuce. That iceberg stuff doesn’t have a vitamin in it. Might as well eat paper.”

“I got it just like you told me,” Starsky said. “Hutch, don’t go to too much trouble, okay?”

“Why not? She hasn’t visited in ages. And you said you wanted it to be special.”

Starsky snaked his arms around Hutch’s waist, kissing the back of his neck. “That’s because I want to tell her about our relationship. There aren’t too many people we can do that with, and Joanie’s special.” He inhaled the familiar scent of Hutch’s shampoo mixed with his aftershave, then opened his mouth and lightly lapped at his skin with his tongue.

Hutch stilled in the circle of his partner’s arms, his breathing accelerating slightly. “Starsky…”

“Just wanted a little taste,” the brunet replied, his hands gently stroking Hutch’s hard abdomen beneath the black T-shirt he wore with his jeans. “So,” he continued talking even as he nuzzled beneath the blond’s ear, “I told her I had something important to say, but she’d have to wait until she got here.”

“How do you think she’s gonna take it?” Hutch asked, his voice a little raspy. “I mean…you two dated.”

“That was ages ago,” Starsky said. “She’s gonna be happy for us. If I didn’t know that, I wouldn’t be tellin’ her. Here we’ve been together over half a year, and how many people know? Hug, Dobey… Minnie.”

“I’d say other people suspect,” Hutch hazarded, leaning against his partner and shuddering as his hot breath touched the skin of his neck. “Especially now that we bought this house together.”

“Maybe,” Starsky shrugged. “That was another plus in quitting the force. We don’t have to worry about our jobs. And you’re your own boss now.”

Hutch had taken his life’s savings, bought a greenhouse, and started a landscaping business in which Starsky surprisingly found a new talent in creating beautiful yard designs. Both had done much of the manual labor, Starsky starting a bit later than Hutch, since he had to heal and complete his rehabilitation, but now the business was really taking off and Hutch had been able to hire several workers in the past few weeks. Working and planning together had been one of the things that had germinated the romantic aspect of their relationship. They had found that, after the dangerous part of their lives had been taken away, the deep love and caring they shared was allowed to give way to sexual attraction. Starsky didn’t know if it had always been there, latent, or if it was entirely new. He didn’t really care. All he knew was that the moment they’d brought sex to their physical love, he’d become complete. No longer half a man, missing something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“ _We_  are our own bosses…you’re my partner in the business, remember?” Hutch reminded him of the large chunk of his own savings that had helped move things along.

“Yep, I remember. Another partnership.” Starsky pulled Hutch around in the circle of his arms and nudged him against the counter using the lower half of his body. “I love our life together, Hutch,” he said softly, his dark blue eyes shining with sincerity. “I love our business, our house, our everything.” He kissed Hutch softly on the mouth, punctuating every point. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it’s all happened.”

Even before their sexual feelings had awakened, Starsky’s near-death experience had hit the partners hard, causing them to reevaluate everything in their lives, including the fact that neither could see a life without the other. What did it mean when two people felt more for each other than they did for any other person on earth? When they chose to spend practically every moment together—to share both work and free time? When they loved each other fiercely in every way possible but one? One thing it meant was that there could be no more close calls. It wasn’t worth it. With almost one mind, Starsky and Hutch had decided it was time to call it quits as cops and find something else. Together, of course. And then they added that “one” way they hadn’t previously shown their love. And the rest was history.

And what did it matter what other people thought--after you’d looked Death in the face and returned to tell about it? Life was meant to be lived.

Hutch ran his hand through his partner’s dark curls. “You’re such a softy,” he told him fondly before kissing him. He took his lower lip between his teeth and tugged playfully, causing Starsky to grind himself against him, his hands sliding up his torso and tugging on his shirt.

“Don’t tease, Hutch,” he groaned.

“Not teasing,” Hutch objected. Starsky growled and yanked Hutch’s shirt out of his pants, thrusting his hands up his rippled abdomen and tweaking his nipples. Hutch moaned low in his throat and attached his mouth to Starsky’s neck. Starsky made short work of Hutch’s belt and got his pants off in two quick pulls, tossing them over his shoulder to land where they would. Grabbing hold of his ass cheeks, he squeezed rhythmically, causing Hutch to grind into him harder.

“Get…these…jeans…off…” Hutch panted, fumbling with the button. Starsky helped him and got them down, kicking them aside. Their shirts were next, and finally they stood naked, pressed together, their flesh burning as their hands skimmed over one another. Starsky knew he could come just touching his partner, but he wanted more. “Want you,” he whimpered, and turning, Hutch fumbled and grabbed the oil out of the cabinet, uncapping and dousing his fingers with it, then gliding it all over Starsky’s erect, pulsing cock. Starsky flung his head back, his knees going weak. “Okay, okay, I’m ready.” He led Hutch to the table and bent him over it, spreading his legs like he would a perp. “You ready for me, baby?” he asked almost gruffly.

“Give it to me,” Hutch growled, and Starsky moaned at his words before pressing between those luscious cheeks and driving home. Hutch threw his head up and yelled, his voice becoming hoarse as he called for him over and over, driving him deeper inside. Starsky hit his prostate, making Hutch writhe on the table, sending the salt and pepper shakers rolling into the living room. “Oh god, yes, Starsky!” Hutch’s ass was wiggling so much that Starsky had to grasp his hips to keep him still. The table rocked and a chair fell over. Two more gigantic thrusts and Starsky was over the top, taking Hutch with him, their voices mingling and sending a flock of starlings careening out of the tree outside the window.

Breathing hard, they slowly came down from their high, muscles shaking. Starsky gently slipped out of his lover, and they both fell to the floor, resting in each other’s arms until they were strong enough to get up again and move into the bedroom, where they collapsed onto the bed in a sweaty heap.

“What time does her flight come in?” Hutch asked from the hollow of Starsky’s throat.

“Five o’clock,” Starsky said, his heartbeat slowing to its normal rhythm under Hutch’s ear.

“We’ve got time for a short nap, I think,” Hutch said complacently, rubbing his nose into his partner’s hair-covered chest.

Starsky could barely keep his eyes open, depleted as he was. “Tha’s good.” He drifted off to sleep, his arms around Hutch’s shoulders, hands resting on his smooth back. “I love you, Hutch,” he murmured just before sleep took him. “So much.”

 

_Chapter Two_

 

They had to scramble when they woke up, reaching for clothing and pulling it on, running into one another on the way to the bathroom, not having a spare moment for anything other than putting themselves together and getting out the door. Hutch regretted this later, wishing they’d remained awake those two hours after their lovemaking and talked, or made love again. Anything but slept, wasting that precious time together.

The airport was crowded, more so than usual, and Hutch and Starsky fought the crowds to the escalators, making their way to the terminal where Joanie would disembark her plane from New York. The partners stood, shoulders touching, watching the people spill into the airport, until they simultaneously spotted the carrot-colored head and surged forward to meet Starsky’s old friend.

“Joanie!” Starsky called over the bustle. She turned, green eyes searching, and a wide smile covering her lightly freckled face when she spotted them. Moving forward, she put down her suitcase and embraced Starsky, then Hutch. She was short, trim, and lively—an attractive combination. At one time Hutch had really thought that she was the one Starsky would spend the rest of his life with. They had seemed such a complementary couple—full of energy, life, and enthusiasm. And it might have happened, too, if Joanie’s work hadn’t called her back to New York. Hutch had felt very sorry for Starsky at the time, but now, of course, he was only too happy things hadn’t worked out between them.

“Wow, you two look terrific!” she exclaimed, looking them over. “Have you just returned from a spa vacation or something? I swear, you both look ten years younger than the last time I saw you!” She eyed Hutch’s upper lip. “And you got rid of the mustache!”

Hutch grinned a little self-consciously. “Got tired of it,” he said. "Shaved it when Starsky was still in the hospital."

“It looked great, but I think I like you better without it,” Joanie said, considering. “You look more innocent…almost like a blushing groom.”

Both Hutch and Starsky colored at her words, the crimson in Hutch’s fair skin more obvious than in his partner’s dark complexion. They exchanged a knowing look, but remained quiet, their news set aside for later. They each took one of Joanie’s bags in one hand and hooked her arm with the other, then made their way through the crowd to the escalators.

“These are the only bags I’ve got,” she told them as they were jostled along. “No need to stop at baggage claim. And good thing, too--What’s going on here, anyway? This place seems way too crowded.”

“I’d been wondering the same,” Starsky said. “I noticed some people with signs about some convention. Can’t wait to get outta this mess. Hutch has a great dinner planned for us, by the way.”

Joanie grinned up at Hutch. “Sounds wonderful! All I’ve had are peanuts on the plane. I think there were eight in the bag.”

“Dinner will be a while,” Hutch told her. “You want to stop in here and grab a drink and snack?” He gestured toward a small deli.

“Sure, if you aren’t in a hurry…”

The two men made a swift turn through the crowd, propelling their charge into the small snack shop where Hutch immediately got in line while Starsky took Joanie’s bags and nestled them in a corner by their table. They sat down, regarding each other fondly.

“It’s been a while,” Joanie replied. “You really do look wonderful, Dave.”

“Thanks,” he grinned. “I feel wonderful. It’s amazing what a second chance at life can do for you.”

She smiled, her green eyes lighting up. “I’m so happy you have made a complete recovery! And I was just thrilled when you invited me out. It’s been a long time since we got to spend time together. We had so much fun when we were kids, and when we dated…I’ve missed you.”

“Same here,” Starsky patted her hand. Hutch returned with some chips and colas, asking Joanie her preference. They ate and Joanie told them about her job and life in New York.

“I hope the crowds have thinned out a bit,” Hutch said when they left the snack shop.

“No such luck,” Joanie said, then made a quip that Starsky didn’t catch as they continued toward the escalators, arm-in-arm again and bags in hand.

Hutch laughed, throwing his blond head back a little, and Starsky turned to admire the curve of his neck, thinking he’d like to take a nibble out of it. The next thing he knew, he was nudged so hard by a passerby that his arm dislodged from Joanie’s, and he was propelled sideways, foot at the edge of something, and then toppling, hip hitting a sharp edge as his shoulder collided with what felt like someone’s leg, his own legs coming up over his head, a sharp pain in his skull, and then darkness.

Familiar sounds. Heels clicking on slick floors, regular beeping, intermittent announcements over a loud speaker, the hushed murmuring of a muted TV. Starsky fought to open his eyes, his hand sliding up his torso to his chest. Long, curling lashes fluttering, violet orbs met bright florescent lighting and narrowed protectively. A warm hand squeezed his that lay on the bed beside him. Slowly, painfully, he turned his head and met his partner’s gaze. Licking dry lips, he muttered hoarsely, “H-hutch.”

Hutch smiled, the smile that could light the world in Starsky’s opinion. “I’m right here,” he said. Behind his partner, the door opened and another familiar face appeared, this one more of a surprise.

“Joanie,” he rasped.

“Yep, it’s me,” she smiled, approaching the bed. “You feeling all right? That was some fall you took.” Her eyes were concerned, belying her easy manner. His partner seemed at a total loss for words, and Starsky eyed him carefully.

“I’m okay. You all right, Hutch?” he asked, and Hutch ducked his head, hiding his expression. He cleared his throat a couple of times, then just nodded. Starsky squeezed his hand, willing him to look at him, and when Hutch’s eyes finally met his, the expression there only confused him more.

In fact, several things were confusing. For one thing, this room didn’t look as he remembered it.

“Why’d they move me?” he asked, and Hutch and Joanie shared a confused glance.

“From the airport, you mean?” Joanie asked.

“No, from that other hospital room,” Starsky answered.

Hutch scooted forward in the chair. “Buddy, you’ve only been in one room since they patched you up. You’ve got a bit of a concussion. You’re just confused---it’ll be better soon. You’ve got a big bruise on your hip---does it hurt?”

“Some,” Starsky said, then looked over at Joanie. “I thought you couldn’t make it…Hutch told me you called and I got the flowers…”

Joanie frowned, then her face cleared. “Oh! Oh, Dave, you’re thinking of after the shooting. No, sweetie, that was almost a year ago. You’re here because you got knocked down the escalator at the airport.”

“Airport?” Starsky’s brows knit together, and he looked to Hutch for confirmation. Hutch’s hand still held his, and he squeezed it comfortingly.

“That’s right. We went to pick up Joanie, and we were leaving to go to our house when someone rushing to catch a flight slammed into you. You went head over heels down the escalator.” Hutch shivered slightly at the memory of that awful moment. “You knocked your head pretty hard on a step. Luckily, your head was harder.” He tried for a wry smile, barely succeeding.

Starsky frowned deeply. “Our house?”

Icy cold gripped Hutch’s heart, and he sucked in a breath. Starsky was more than confused.

He watched his partner for a moment before answering carefully. “We bought a house together not long ago. Sharing expenses. Do you…remember that we quit the force?”

Starsky jumped, his eyes opening wide. “We  _what_?”

Hutch gently stroked his arm. “It’s okay, buddy, let’s talk about this later. I’m going to get the doctor and tell him you’re awake.” He stood a bit shakily and left the room. Starsky looked to Joanie.

“What the hell’s he talkin’ about?”

Joanie took the seat Hutch had vacated. “I don’t know the whole story, Dave, but from what you told me on the phone earlier this year, you two were just burnt out. You do remember being shot, don’t you?”

Starsky swallowed, Gunther’s attempt on his and his partner’s lives vivid in his memory. He nodded, wincing at the pain that brought his head.

“Well, after all the physical therapy you went through, you came to a decision, and the two of you quit the police force. It seemed to be the right decision. You’ve been very happy.”

Starsky’s mouth was still down-turned. None of what she was saying made much sense to him. “But…” he didn’t finish the thought, because the door swung open and a doctor entered, closely followed by Hutch.

“Wonderful to see you awake, Mr. Starsky,” the Asian man in the white coat said. It seemed odd to Starsky’s ears not to have “Detective” or “Sergeant” in front of his name. “I’m Dr. Chow. Any pain?”

“My head,” Starsky croaked.

“Okay, that’s to be expected.” Dr. Chow took a small flashlight out of his pocket and shone it into first one of Starsky’s eyes, and then the other. “Mr. Hutchinson tells me you are experiencing some memory loss. Can you tell me the date?”

To Hutch’s complete dismay, Starsky gave him the month and year of his shooting, almost a year previously.

“Y-you don’t remember anything since the shooting?” Hutch couldn’t help but ask.

Starsky looked from Hutch, to Joanie, to Dr. Chow. “What is the date?” He asked uncertainly.

When the doctor gave it to him, Starsky blanched. “What?” He brought his hand up to his chest, then pulled up the blue and white hospital gown and peeked under it. There were scars, to be sure, but they were well-healed and covered by a dense growth of chest hair. He swallowed hard and let the gown fall.

“How could I not remember an entire year?” he asked, his voice sounding young and vulnerable. Hutch instinctively moved toward him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“It happens sometimes with a head injury. Hopefully your memory will return soon. Your scans look good. We’ll just run a few cognitive tests before releasing you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Starsky asked unhappily.

“Hey, buddy,” Hutch said softly, patting the shoulder his hand had been resting on. “We want to make sure you are one hundred percent before you come home.”

“To our house…” Starsky said.

Hutch smiled. “Right.”

“As it is, Mr. Starsky needs his rest,” Dr. Chow ordered. “I suggest you get some yourself and come back in the morning. If all goes well, he should be able to check out by noon.”

Hutch looked like he didn’t want to leave, but Starsky insisted. “From what you’ve told me, Joanie hasn’t even gotten to unpack. Take her home, Hutch, and feed her. I’ll be fine.”

He sounded so much like his regular self that Hutch relaxed a little and obeyed, promising he’d call later. He and Joanie made their way to the parking garage, Hutch’s mind jumbled with all that happened in just a few hours.

“This is really terrible, Hutch,” Joanie said, joining him in the front seat of the black Mustang that had replaced Starsky’s beloved Torino after the shooting. “I feel awful—like somehow it’s my fault.”

Hutch looked over at her as he started the car. “Your fault? That’s ridiculous, Joanie. We’ve been looking forward to your visit, especially Starsky. This was just a freak accident.” He wound his way out of the hospital garage, headlights sweeping the walls as Hutch followed the exit signs until they were outside in the twilight.

Silence permeated the car as Hutch made his way out of town and into the rural area that he and his partner had chosen for their home. Sick to death of city life, they had opted for quiet and the beauty of nature, although in deference to Starsky, they were really only ten minutes from civilization and an all-night pizza parlor. When they reached the mailbox, Hutch turned and drove between the tall trees that lined the driveway leading to their spacious, one-floor rambler.

“Oh, this is nice,” Joanie said. “You must love being out here in the woods, Hutch.” She knew how much the blond man loved nature. “I’m a little surprised you talked Dave into it, though.”

Hutch chuckled, thinking of all the nights he and Starsky sat outside on lawn chairs, drinking beer and looking up at the stars. “He’s adjusted well.”

He carried Joanie’s bags inside and into the bedroom that was officially Starsky’s, but that the brunet never slept in.

“Oh! Am I putting Dave out?” Joanie asked.

“He’ll sleep on the couch,” Hutch said, not wanting to get into the details of their relationship by himself. That was something Starsky had wanted to share with Joanie. Now Hutch wondered if Starsky even remembered it himself. The thought caused his stomach to clench and burn.

“I could take the couch…” Joanie offered, but Hutch shook his head.

“You know he’d never allow that.” He put her bags on top of the blue spread and told her he would go start dinner. “I’m going to wait ‘til tomorrow night when Starsk’s here to make the big meal, but I’ll throw something together for now. Do you like ham or turkey sandwiches?”

“Turkey sounds perfect,” Joanie replied, smiling.

“Help yourself to anything you want. The bathroom’s that way.” Hutch pointed down the hall. He walked into his own bedroom, shed his jacket, and looked at the rumpled bed he and his partner had lain in a mere four hours ago. He didn’t know how long he stood there before he jolted out of it and went into the master bathroom. Washing his face, he stared at himself in the mirror, worrying. A sound from the hallway reminded him that he had a guest, and he hurried to the kitchen to make sandwiches.

Half an hour later, he and Joanie sat on the small deck off of the living room eating and talking companionably. The sun was sinking behind the expanse of trees that surrounded the small backyard, and Hutch spotted the raccoon that he and Starsky had named “Waddles” scurrying across the grass. He pointed it out to Joanie, telling her its name.

“Cute,” she smiled. After a moment, she sighed. “I’ve missed Dave so much. I’ve sometimes wondered if I never should have left for this job in New York.”

Hutch shifted, knowing this was dangerous territory. He really didn’t know how to react, and decided for neutral. “Job not going well?”

“Oh, it is,” Joanie assured him, taking a sip of wine. “But a career doesn’t keep you warm at night.” She smiled at Hutch. “Dave was really something special to me.”

Before Hutch could think of a reply, she said, “I hope he gets his memory back---I mean, to lose the past year! Surely it all will come back to him. Although---wasn’t there a lot of painful recovery? Maybe it’s best he doesn’t remember.”

Hutch flinched as though she’d slapped him. The best moments of his life had happened in the past year. He took a quick sip of his wine and adjusted his features, but not before Joanie noticed.

“I’m sorry! That probably brought up all kinds of bad memories. I really wish I’d been able to come see Dave during that time. I was a little worried he was angry that I hadn’t, so it came as a real surprise when he invited me here for this visit. He said he wanted to tell me something—got any idea what that could be?”

“I’ll have to leave that for him,” Hutch replied, setting his glass down on the table between them. He sat a moment, watching a couple of bats swooping down to catch mosquitoes. He was worried, and as much as he liked Joanie, he desperately wished she wasn’t there. If it hadn’t been for her, he would have pressured the doctor to let him stay with Starsky. “I think I’m going to give him a call,” he said, getting up and heading inside for the phone.

Starsky answered on the third ring.

“How you feeling, partner?”

“Rumor has it we aren’t partners anymore,” Starsky said, sounding a little hurt and confused.

“Actually,” Hutch said, “we are. We’re partners in a landscaping business.”

“What?” Starsky blurted. Hutch imagined that if he’d been told the same thing a year ago, he would’ve had the same reaction. “Hutch, I’m sorry, but this is all so  _weird_.”

 _You don’t know the half of it, buddy,_ Hutch thought.

“You didn’t answer my question…how are you feeling?”

“I feel good, I guess. My head still hurts. They came and did those tests, and they came out fine. I—I just can’t believe how different everything is. I mean—we have a house together? Why’d we do that?”

Hutch’s heart sank, any hope of Starsky remembering what they had together sinking with it. He took a breath, wet his lips, and tried to still his charging heartbeat. “Well, your rehabilitation was long and difficult, Starsk. It was also expensive. We were spending so much time together, anyway, and your rent increased… and we realized we just didn’t want to be on the force anymore. It was something we could afford—we just needed a change.” He was silent a moment, listening to Starsky’s breathing on the other end of the line. “If it helps, you’ve liked it.”

Finally, Starsky spoke. “It’s not that, Hutch. I mean, I’m sure it’s great. I just—it feels like I went to sleep and woke up with my entire life changed, that’s all. I’ll be all right. Don’t worry.”

Hutch smiled softly at his friend’s attempts to quell his fears. “I know you will be, babe.” He swallowed. “I’ll see you tomorrow when we pick you up.”

His words reminding him of their guest, Starsky asked after Joanie.

“We’re having a fine time catching up,” Hutch assured him. “You get your sleep.”

He hung up, feeling a little better for having spoken to Starsky, but certain now that his partner had no memory of the change in their relationship. Joanie had cleaned up the dinner dishes, and she joined him in the living room where Hutch sat in the shadows next to the phone.

“How is he?” she asked, taking a seat opposite on the sofa.

“Good. Confused.”

Joanie smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry, Hutch. He’ll be fine. And if he never remembers the past year---well, there are worse things, you know?”

Hutch knew that she was right. Starsky could’ve been killed.  He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself. Besides, when his partner came home, familiar surroundings might help him remember. He mustered up a grin for Joanie, rose from his chair, and, turning on the radio, produced a deck of cards. They had a pleasurable game of Rummy before retiring for the night.

 

_Chapter Three_

 

To Hutch’s disappointment, seeing the house didn’t jar his partner’s memory. Starsky acted like he’d never been inside it before. He had to be shown where the bathroom was, and although he recognized the mixture of his and Hutch’s furniture, he had no recollection of the recliner they had chosen together, or the large television set Huggy had gifted them when they’d moved in. He didn’t seem displeased with the place, however. He liked it just as much as he had the first time he’d laid eyes on it—more so, really, now that it was made homey with all of their things.

Starsky went into his bedroom and looked around, feeling out of place. He couldn’t believe he really slept there. It was like being in a stranger’s room, only furnished with his own stuff. He saw his model ship on the shelves along with his books, his pictures on the walls, and his clothes in the closet. The dresser was full of his underwear, socks, and pajamas. Walking over to the desk in the corner, he picked up a sketch book. He recognized his own work, but what surprised him were the elaborate drawings of landscapes and gardens. When had he learned to do that? He felt like he was stuck in an episode of The Twilight Zone, never his favorite program.

Piled neatly in the corner were Joanie’s things. It had been good to see her again after all this time. They used to be quite an item. He recalled the intense feelings he’d had for her, and the acute disappointment and despair he had experienced when she’d decided to take the job back in New York. He also recalled Hutch being there for him during that time, as he’d always been and always would be. Had they really quit the force? Although the thought seemed foreign to him, he couldn’t help but notice the relief it brought, knowing that his partner was no longer in danger. For years he had carried the weight of Hutch’s safety on his shoulders, as he knew Hutch had carried the weight of his. It had been a difficult burden, and he knew it was one of the reasons they were so close. He really wasn’t too surprised that they had decided to pool their resources and cohabitate. He just wished he could remember the process. He thought back, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get past the first few days of real lucidity in the hospital after he’d finally come out of the coma.

Sighing, he left the bedroom and wandered about the house. Hutch and Joanie were outside discussing the flower beds, so Starsky allowed himself a detailed investigation. The bathroom down the hall was small and Starsky thought it must be his. He didn’t see his toothbrush, however. He looked through the drawers and cabinets, but found nothing other than extra towels, soap, and toilet paper. He recognized the shower curtain from the bathroom in his apartment, but they’d gotten a new rug and pictures for the walls. He admired them a moment—they were all sea paintings done in reds and navies.

Heading down the hall, he turned into the master bedroom, wondering idly how he and his friend had decided on who would get this bigger room with the adjoining bath. He imagined that he’d urged Hutch to have it since the window looked over the garden. He looked out now, spotting Hutch and Joanie down the driveway examining a tree—for what, he had no idea. Turning back to the room, he looked around. Hutch’s guitar stood in the corner, some sheet music beside it. The bed was neatly made, unusual for Hutch, but he guessed his friend had made a special effort since they had a guest. Next to the bed was a photograph of the two of them. They were sitting together, shoulders touching, smiles on their faces. Starsky didn’t remember it being taken, nor did he recognize the background. He thought they looked relaxed and happy. It was a nice picture.

Hutch’s cologne and watch sat on the bureau he’d had as long as Starsky had known him. Photographs of the beach that Starsky had taken himself graced the walls, making the brunet smile. Hutch had always been his biggest fan.

Walking over to the bed, he stretched out, unsure of what made him want to spend a few extra moments in his partner’s room. He felt good in here—comfortable and at ease. The nightstand drawer was ajar, and Starsky leaned over and took a peek. A thin book, pen and paper, and a small tube of lubricant were all that were inside. Eying the lubricant, Starsky wondered how he and Hutch managed their dates. Did they vacate the premises when the other had a lady over? Or did they just ignore the squeaking of the bed and sounds of ecstasy coming from the next room? Starsky imagined it was the latter. After all, they were no strangers to the other’s private life. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and relaxed, trying to drag up memories from the black void of the past year.

“Starsky,” Hutch stopped in the doorway when he saw his partner lying on the bed.

Starsky jolted awake, opened his eyes, and yawned. “Sorry, must’ve drifted off.” He sat up.

”That’s okay, I was just---surprised to find you in here, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry. Obviously this is your room.” Starsky stood and stretched.

“Well, yeah.” Hutch watched him, uncertain.

“Bet I let you have it ‘cause of the garden,” Starsky indicated the bright flowers just outside the window. “Always was a sucker for your love of plants.”

Hutch nodded, unable to tell him that this was really  _their_ room—the other one with most of his things in it just for show.

“Hey, where are your plants, anyway?” Starsky asked, frowning and looking around.

“We see so much of them at the green house, we don’t really want to take care of them here, too. Plus we have the garden--” Hutch gestured toward the window.

Starsky wondered if he really cared whether they had plants or not. He couldn’t imagine that he did, but then remembered his sketches. Had he changed that much? He let it drop, uncomfortable that he didn’t know something so basic about himself.

“Where’s Joanie?” Starsky asked.

“She’s taking a nap. I was just about to start dinner.”

“Okay. Need help?”

“Uh…sure. You can fix the salad.”

Starsky followed his friend into the well-lit, spacious kitchen, admiring the cherry cabinets. Hutch noticed and told him, “You put those in. The place came with some god-awful looking ones, so you read up on carpentry and did it yourself.”

“You’re kidding!” Starsky replied.

“Nope! You can do anything you set your mind to,” Hutch told him proudly, his praise filling Starsky with a warmth that suddenly threatened to make him weepy.  _Must be the concussion,_ he thought.

Hutch’s head was in the refrigerator, and he was pulling out ingredients, setting them on the island behind him. Starsky searched around in the cabinets until he found a colander. He put the lettuce in it and proceeded to wash it carefully.

“Joanie’s sure looking good,” he commented as he rinsed the leaves. “I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her.”

Hutch’s back stiffened.

“Maybe I’ll take her out somewhere nice while I’m here. We could start something up again. Who knows? Maybe that job isn’t as great as she thought it’d be. Hutch?”

Starsky noticed Hutch had straightened up and was just standing in front of the open refrigerator door, his back to him. Slowly Hutch reached out and put his hand on the freezer, leaning forward as though winded.

Starsky stepped toward him. “Hutch? You okay?”

Hutch didn’t answer. Moving like someone underwater, he walked out of the room, murmuring something about the bathroom. Starsky watched him go, wondering if something he’d had for breakfast hadn’t agreed with him. He went back to washing vegetables, and when he was through with that and Hutch still hadn’t appeared, he began preparing the chicken. He wasn’t exactly sure what Hutch had planned to do with it, but he washed the pieces and dried them off, then searched for a dish to cook them in. It seemed odd to think he didn’t know where anything in his own house was located.

Eventually Hutch returned. He had showered and changed his clothes, and his face looked odd to Starsky. He began assembling the chicken in the dish Starsky had prepared, adding spices and cut up carrots. When he had it in the oven, he turned and looked at his friend, his eyes meeting his and then quickly averting to his right cheek. “That should be ready in about forty-five minutes. Listen, there’s some wine in the frig…I have to go.” He turned to leave and Starsky grabbed him by the arm.

“Wait! Hutch, where’re you goin’? We were gonna eat!”

“I can’t, Starsk,” Hutch said softly, not looking at him. “I forgot there was something I need to do.” He jerked away and was out the door before Starsky could say another word.

Starsky was concerned, but not overly so. It could be that Hutch really had forgotten something, or his friend might have decided to give him and Joanie the evening alone. He only hoped he hadn’t gotten the idea that he wasn’t wanted.

”Hey!” she greeted him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “You look much better than you did yesterday!”

Starsky took a chance and pulled her in for a real kiss. Joanie wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you, Dave. I was telling Hutch so last night. I’ve been regretting our breakup for a while now.”

“So that’s why Hutch cut out of here,” Starsky murmured against her lips before kissing her deeply. He pulled away and added, “When I saw you, I realized how much I’ve missed you, too.”

“Is that what you were going to tell me?” Joanie looked up at him, her green eyes clear as the marble that had been her favorite when they were kids and used to shoot them.

“What do you mean?”

“When you asked me to visit, you said you wanted to tell me something---oh, I’m sorry! Of course you don’t remember.”

Starsky frowned. “Maybe Hutch knows.”

“I asked him, but he said you would have to tell me.”

“I guess that is what I wanted to say,” Starsky replied, pulling her close. “It makes sense, especially since Hutch planned this nice dinner and then left.”

Joanie smiled and kissed him again, this time hungrily.

 

_Chapter Four_

 

Hutch went to Huggy’s and ordered a beer. There had been no way he could’ve sat through that dinner. Starsky not only didn’t remember what they’d had together, but he now wanted to get back together with his ex-girlfriend. What was Hutch supposed to do? Blurt out that he couldn’t, because Starsky belonged t

o him? That they’d been lovers for the past six months? How the hell would Starsky take that bit of information? It pained him that his partner didn’t remember them. Hutch felt sure that  _he_  would, if the situation were reversed. He knew that if he was anywhere  _near_  Starsky, he would feel their connection. That thought hurt him even more. Perhaps his feelings had always been deeper than his partner’s.

As soon as the crowd thinned a little, Huggy came to join him. “Where’s my man Starsky?” he asked, seating himself. “And why do you look like someone popped your favorite balloon?”

Hutch laughed humorlessly. “Because someone did.” He drank some more beer, staring straight ahead.

“What’s that mean?” Huggy asked, confused.

Hutch shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you, Hug.”

“Try me. You and Starsky get into a fight or something? Only something like that could put that look on your face.”

Hutch glanced at his friend and then down at the table. “Starsky took a fall yesterday at the airport when we went to pick up Joanie.”

“He okay?” Huggy asked.

“He’s…okay, but he hit his head and the past year has been completely wiped out of his memory.”

Huggy sat back, stunned. “You mean…”

“I mean he doesn’t remember a thing since he was in the hospital after the hit. He doesn’t remember quitting the force, buying the house, or me.”

“He doesn’t remember  _you?_ ” Huggy asked.

“He doesn’t remember me as anything but his partner and friend, Hug,” Hutch clarified.

“Aw, well…what do the doctors say? He’ll get his memory back, won’t he?”

“Possibly. But Hug…he’s already trying to get Joanie back. And she wants him back. He’s totally forgotten _us!_ He thinks we just live together for convenience, and I can’t tell him otherwise. He thinks it’s weird enough that we’ve quit the force.”

“Shit, man!” Huggy leaned back shaking his head. He’d never seen anyone as happy as his two best friends had been this past half a year. “He’ll come to his senses, Hutch. Just give him some time.”

“And meanwhile I have to sit around and watch him charm Joanie,” Hutch said gloomily into his beer.

“Just hang in there, my man. I know Starsky, and he loves you. He’s gonna come around. He has to.”

“From your lips to God’s ear, my friend,” Hutch prayed.

oooOOOooo

 

When Hutch got home that night, it was past midnight. He quietly entered the house, locked up, and went into his bedroom. Undressing in the dark, he swayed slightly due to the copious amount of beer he’d consumed at Huggy’s, and climbed into bed, tucking a hand under his head and staring up at the ceiling. The empty space beside him taunted him. He longed to feel Starsky’s warm body pressed against his, his leg thrown over him, as it always was when he slept. He wanted to take him in his arms and kiss him fiercely, to make him groan and beg and come with his name on his lips. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he tried to think of something else. Besides, maybe Huggy was right. Maybe if Hutch just gave Starsky a little time, he’d remember. He forced himself to relax.

A noise jolted him onto his elbow, and he sat still, listening in the darkness. Again, he heard it…a low moan. He started to get out of bed and then stopped. He knew that moan. It sounded again, and then came the rhythmic beating of the headboard against the wall. Hutch froze, his insides chilling. He was going to be sick. Bolting out of bed, he barely made it to the toilet before losing all the beer he’d consumed that night. Eyes watering, he looked at himself in the mirror over the sink. He appeared at least as miserable as he felt. A faint gasp and hitched female cry from the other room sent his hands up to cover his ears.  _I can’t take this!_ And then, “DAVE!” the name breaking through the barrier of his hands. Hutch turned into the bedroom and put his clothes back on with shaking hands. Grabbing up his keys and wallet, he got out of there as fast as he could, the squeaking of the noisy bed chasing him out into the moonlit darkness.

_oooOOOOooo_

For the next two weeks Hutch spent all of his time at the greenhouse, only coming home to change and grab something to eat. Starsky didn’t remember his work in their landscape company, and Hutch simply didn’t have the heart to explain it to him. He told him to take the time off until Joanie went home.  _Might as well just hand him to her on a platter with an apple in his mouth._

After that first night, Hutch couldn’t bear to lie in bed listening to the love-making from the other room. He took to sleeping at the greenhouse. He wasn’t even sure if Starsky noticed. He rather thought his partner imagined he came home very late and got up and left very early. It didn’t matter; Starsky was too preoccupied with Joanie to care.

While Hutch plodded miserably through each day, eager for the end of the two weeks to arrive when Joanie would be flying home, Starsky made the most of his time with his girl.

One evening as they sat outside enjoying the stars, Joanie asked where Hutch was keeping himself.

Starsky had his head thrown back and was studying the Big Dipper. Joanie’s voice startled him, and he realized that for a moment he’d thought he’d been sitting there with Hutch.

“Huh? Oh---Hutch. He’s had a lot to do at the greenhouse, he says.”

“You sound like you don’t believe him,” Joanie replied, reaching to take his hand in hers. Starsky had the oddest sensation that this didn’t feel right—sitting there with Joanie and looking at the stars. Feigning a cough, he brought his hand to his mouth, releasing it from her grip.

“I just think maybe he’s staying away on purpose in order to give us some time together,” he said, wrapping his arms around his chest and resuming his perusal of the sky.

“That’s sweet of him,” Joanie commented and was silent a moment before saying, “I go home day after tomorrow.” She let the words hang in the air.

“Joanie…” Starsky started to ask her to stay in LA but stopped.

She looked over at him. “Yes?”

Starsky wet his lips. “Let’s go out…let’s go to Huggy’s for a beer.” He stood up, pulling her up from her chair.

oooOOOooo

 

Huggy’s was crowded with the usual patrons, and Starsky led Joanie past the bar and to a seat. Betty, a waitress who had worked there for at least two years, came over to take their order.

“Hey, Dave, where’s Hutch?”

“He’s working,” Starsky replied. “This is Joanie.”

“Hi,” Betty said, frowning a little. “What can I get you two?”

After a brief discussion, they ordered beer and a large basket of onion rings. Betty went off to get them.

“She sure looked at us weird,” Starsky commented. “Can’t figure out why…I’ve known her a long time. A year longer than I remember, to boot.”

“She’s probably just having a bad day,” Joanie said, taking his hand. “Oh, Dave, I hate to go home. That job I wanted so badly isn’t even tempting me back.” She looked at him sincerely. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Starsky smiled and kissed her. They really had been having a great time together. They were just as compatible as they used to be, yet Starsky felt uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure why. He thought it had something to do with his memory—like maybe he couldn’t move forward until he got that lost time back.

“Maybe you can come back soon. For Thanksgiving or something.”

Betty came back and set their beer and onion rings in front of them.

“Can you tell Hug to come over here when he gets the chance, Betty?” Starsky asked.

“Sure,” she said a bit coldly, and sauntered off.

“She really does seem to be miffed with you,” Joanie commented, taking an onion ring out of the basket and biting into it. “Oh! Careful, they’re hot.”

Meanwhile, Betty stood at the bar with Huggy. “He’s on a date!” Betty told the proprietor hotly. Betty knew all about the relationship between the two men. They had known she was “safe” due to her gay rights activities and homosexual brother. “The bastard’s cheating on Hutch!”

“Now tone it down a notch, will you? It won’t do to have the entire bar in on it. Starsky’s had a recent head trauma and some amnesia. Give him a break.”

Betty didn’t seem likely to, amnesia or not, but she relayed Starsky’s message and went to bus a table.

“Starsky,” Huggy said as he approached the table.

“Hey, Hug, do you remember Joanie? We dated a couple of years back.”

“I certainly do!” Huggy took the red-head’s hand and kissed it. She smiled.

“Huggy, why is Betty treating me like I kicked her dog?” Starsky asked, drinking his beer and wiping the foam from his lip. “I didn’t kick her dog, did I?” he asked as an afterthought.

Huggy chuckled. “Not that I’m aware of. Who am I to guess the reason a woman does anything? They are mysteries that we men must forever contemplate.”

Starsky rolled his eyes. “So glad I asked.”

“And may I ask where Blondie is this fine evening?” Huggy inquired, leaning on the chair in front of him.

“At work,” Starsky answered.

“Greenhouse open this time of night?”

Starsky frowned. “Well, no, I don’t think so. But he has a lot of paper work to do.”

Huggy nodded slowly. “Sure. Paperwork. It’s so unlike you, Starsky, to be so unaware of your best friend’s goings-on. Well, you two have a pleasant evening.” He strolled away before Starsky could say anything.

“ _That_ was weird,” Starsky said, a frown on his face as he watched his friend go.

“You and Hutch are pretty close to him, aren’t you?” Joanie asked, and Starsky nodded.

“Maybe he thinks you have been neglecting Hutch. I don’t know.” She took a sip of her beer. “I agree that it’s a little odd for Hutch to be working so much. I guess I just thought it was a cover…maybe he’s doing something else just to stay out of our hair.”

“Like what?” Starsky asked.

“I don’t know…does he have a girlfriend? Maybe he’s staying with her. I haven’t even heard him come in at night, have you?”

Starsky thought about it. “No. I don’t know if he has a girlfriend right now.” He frowned, annoyed with himself for being so wrapped up in Joanie that he hadn’t noticed how scarce his partner had made himself.

Giving them some time alone was one thing, but Hutch had been basically absent for two entire weeks. “You mind if we go back home?”

Joanie smiled. “That sounds good.” 

When they arrived at the house, Starsky left Joanie watching television and went into Hutch’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Once again he got the distinct impression that this was a room he was always comfortable in. Walking over to the bed, he sat down. As far as he could tell, the bed had not been slept in. He knew his partner rarely made the bed, and he could always leave the door closed if he didn’t want Joanie to see the mess. To Starsky, the room looked just as tidy as it had the night he’d come home from the hospital with his concussion. Something caught his eye, and Starsky lifted one of the pillows. Underneath was another pillow with a case he recognized as his own. Lifting it out, he held it to his chest. This was his ‘squishy’ pillow that he liked to sleep on. It had just the right amount of squishiness to make Starsky like it best. He could even fold it in half easily. He’d wondered what had happened to it, but just figured it had gotten lost or thrown away in the move.  What was it doing in Hutch’s room? He stood up and went into Hutch’s bathroom, looking around. The first night he’d been home, he’d asked Hutch where his toothbrush was, and Hutch had brought it, along with his electric razor, out of this bathroom. Starsky had wondered why he’d chosen to brush his teeth and shave in Hutch’s bathroom, but he’d never asked. Nosing around a bit, he noticed his subscription to  _Sports Illustrated_  nestled in the magazine rack by the commode. The glassed-in shower held his body soap and shampoo. Starsky had been using what he’d found under the sink in the other bathroom, never imagining that his things would be in Hutch’s bathroom.

Wandering back to the bedroom, he stared at the bed. Had he been sharing this room with Hutch for some reason? It wasn’t unheard of for him to sleep with his partner in times of stress. Suddenly, an image flashed across his mind so vivid that he gasped. He turned abruptly and left the room.

Joanie was almost asleep on the couch, and Starsky yanked her up.

“Wha--?” she began, but he covered her mouth with his and his tongue surged forward, stopping all attempts at speech. After a moment, Joanie responded and Starsky carried her to the bedroom.

“Dave---this is Hutch’s room!” she objected between urgent kisses. Starsky didn’t answer, just began stripping his clothes off. He wanted to blot out the picture in his mind, obliterate it from his thoughts. When he looked at this bed, he wanted to see himself buried in a woman. As Starsky peeled her clothes off, Joanie stopped protesting, caught in the sensuality of his intensity. “Oh my god, Dave!” she moaned as he took her. Her climax was earth shattering, but strangely Dave’s didn’t follow. He pulled away from her and stared at the ceiling.

Breathing hard, she asked, “Is something wrong?” She watched his chest heave. “Dave?”

“I’m goin’ back to New York with you,” he said from under his arm.

“What? Really?”

He nodded. “I’ll call the airport and arrange it.”

oooOOOooo

 

Hutch had lost him. He wondered how much of that was his own fault. Should he have fought for him? Remained in the house, refusing to leave the two of them alone together? Slammed doors that night he’d heard them in the bedroom?

No, that would’ve been ridiculous. Starsky would have just taken her to a motel. Besides, he wanted his friend to be happy. He’d rather he be happy with  _him_ , but that seemed unlikely since his memory hadn’t returned. And if it were to return, what difference would that make now? Starsky had gone to New York with Joanie. He’d told Hutch he wanted to visit his family, but Hutch knew better. Starsky’s attitude toward him had changed. He could feel it. He was drifting away, not wanting to be lovers, nor business associates, and barely wanting to be friends. And Hutch could do nothing but allow him to go. He was a man, and as a man, he couldn’t fight for the man he loved.

And Hutch was taking this hard. He could barely eat. He couldn’t stand being in the house that they’d both loved and worked to make their own. The silence taunted him, and at night he dreamed of his partner. Huggy tried to cheer him up, but Hutch wouldn’t be cheered. His friend was sitting with him, attempting to interest him in a television show, when the phone call came from Starsky telling him that he and Joanie were going to be married. Starsky wanted him to fly out and be his best man.

Hutch blinked, staring at the ceiling, the phone a dead weight in his hand. He didn’t say anything for the longest time, so long that Starsky started calling his name. Huggy took the phone from Hutch.

“Sorry, my man. This is Hug. Hutch had to go get the door.” Starsky repeated his news to Huggy, and the man’s face fell. He tried to gather up some enthusiasm, but barely managed a ‘congratulations’. “What? Yeah, I’ll tell him. Bye, Starsky.” Huggy hung up the phone. Looking over at his pale friend, he said, “Oh my god.”

Hutch’s eyes shifted to his, stark panic in their depths. “I can’t be his best man, Huggy. I can’t do that. I’ll congratulate him, toast him, whatever---I can make myself do those things. But I cannot stand there while he gets married.” He swallowed.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“He says they’re getting married in a week.”

Hutch sat up straight. “What’s the rush? Oh god…do you think she’s pregnant?”

“I don’t think so. He just said they didn’t want to put it off. Says his mother’s all excited.”

“I’ll bet,” Hutch said sourly. He and Starsky had had the distinct impression that his mother had suspected their relationship and blatantly disapproved. Hutch imagined she was high as a kite over this new development. “What I want to know is, why is this happening so fast? I feel like I’m on a speeding train---ever since his accident, I haven’t had a moment to really talk to him.” He swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened. “The other day on the phone, I tried---I really tried to tell him. But he kept talking about how happy he was. I just couldn’t go on.”

They sat together in silence for a while.

“Hug—I’m sorry, but I need to be alone. You understand?”

“I dig,” Huggy stood up to go. “Call me if you need me, promise?”

Hutch tried to smile, and managed to keep the tears at bay until his friend was out of the house. Then he cried until he couldn’t anymore. When that was over, he did something he thought he’d never do. He called his parents and asked for money.

 

_Chapter Five_

The next time Starsky called, Hutch was ready for it. He gave his friend his heart-felt congratulations, but told him that he was not going to be able to be his best man.

“Whaddya mean? Hutch, you’re my best friend.” Starsky sounded wounded to the core, and Hutch’s heart constricted. But he knew his limitations.

“Starsk, I’m going to fly out there, and I’ll be there for the preparations, but I’m sorry---I’d already made these plans and they can’t be changed. I won’t be there for the wedding. Why don’t you ask Huggy? He’d be thrilled.”

Hutch privately wondered if Huggy would be thrilled, but he threw him to the wolves anyway. It was every man for himself.

“But what is it you have to do?” Starsky asked.

Hutch took a deep breath before lying. “I’m going to Europe to scope out some business deals for my father.”

“For your father? But Hutch---what about your business?”

“Aw, Starsk, I don’t know. Maybe the whole thing was a mistake.”

“It’s because I dropped out of it, isn’t it. Because I can’t remember. I’m sorry, Hutch.”

Hutch dug his fingernails into his palm in an attempt to keep from falling apart. “No, no. It just wasn’t working out, and my father gave me this opportunity…so I’m leaving for Europe, and it just happens to be on the day of your wedding. I’m sorry, Starsky. It can’t be changed.”

“I guess I’ll ask Hug, then,” Starsky replied, miserable. Hutch was his very best friend. He loved him more than he loved his own brother. He couldn’t imagine not having him as his best man in his wedding.  _If you love him so much, why have you run away from him?_ A voice in his head asked him, but he pushed the thought away.

“Well, call me with your flight information. We’re putting everybody in the wedding party up at the Hilton. Even if you can’t be in it, you’re still an honorary member.”

“Okay, buddy. I’ll be in touch.” Hutch hung up the phone, feeling numb. He walked through the house, touching things and remembering. The games of chess he and Starsky had played at that table…the sudsy fight they’d had at the sink…the fragrant bath they’d shared in the tub of the hall bathroom…the yard work they’d shared…their nights sitting beneath the stars…the night they’d made love on the deck under the moon. So many wonderful, joyous memories. Hutch couldn’t believe Starsky was gone and he was going to shut up the house and go to Europe. Not to work for his father, as he had said, but to backpack wherever he chose and try to forget. He’d told his parents he planned on using his trust fund, and they’d readily agreed. They had been thrilled when he’d quit the police force, although the greenhouse had not been in their plans for their son. However, a trek through Europe sounded promising to them. Even if it hadn’t, Hutch’s trust fund was his own to use as he wished. He’d just never wished to use it.  _Desperate times call for desperate measures,_ he thought.

He paid the next three house payments. Starsky had asked him about that---about how much of a bind he was leaving him in by moving out. Hutch had lied and told him he could manage. And now he realized he hadn’t even asked his friend what his long-term plans were. He was just in a hurry to hang up and get off the subject of Starsky’s love for Joanie. Was Starsky going to move to New York permanently? Or would he and Joanie be moving to LA? Somehow he doubted that. Joanie’s job and family were in New York. Starsky’s family was in New York. The only thing Starsky had in LA was Hutch.

Sighing, Hutch sat outside where he’d sat so many nights with Starsky, and tried to come up with a way he could let his best friend know how very much he meant to him, one last time.

oooOOOooo

 

Huggy and Hutch flew to New York together. Huggy didn’t like to fly, and was a nervous wreck the entire time, his fingers clutching the arm rests and refusing to let go. Hutch tried to get him to look out the window at the cloud formations, but Huggy stared fixedly at the seat in front of him, as if moving might set off a crash. Finally Hutch asked the waitress for some booze, and he plied Huggy with it the rest of the flight. By the time they got off the plane, Huggy was feeling no pain.

“This way, Hug,” Hutch said, maneuvering the smartly dressed, drunken entrepreneur through the crowd. Spotting Starsky even before his carrot-topped fiancée, Hutch set his bag down and slid into his friend’s arms for the warm hug he craved. Starsky had always been the king of hugging, and Hutch had missed it almost as much as he’d missed being in his arms for other reasons. He savored the moment, pulling his friend into a tighter embrace, knowing it would be one of the last for a long time to come.

Huggy was greeted, and Starsky looked him up and down. “He’s cooked!”

“I had to do it. He was fit to be tied on that airplane.”

Starsky laughed and took Huggy by the arm. “If you’re gonna be my best man, we need to get you fitted for a tux. That means sobering you up.”

Hutch greeted Joanie with a kiss, having put aside all feelings of jealousy in an attempt at goodwill. Joanie was a great person, and if he couldn’t be with Starsky, he was glad that she could make him happy. During the past few days, he’d talked himself out of his pit of self-pity and determined he was going to be cheerful and supportive for his friend. This was all he could do for him, though. He did not regret his decision to miss the nuptials.

The four drove to the Hilton where they poured coffee down Huggy’s throat before Joanie’s brother whisked him away for the fitting of the tux. Joanie had to leave in order to attend to some last minute things, and Starsky and Hutch were left alone in his hotel suite.

“This is awfully nice, buddy,” Hutch commented, looking around the place.

“Joanie’s folks are footing the bill,” his friend answered, leaning back in the plush chair. “Hey, what about my bachelor party? You and me and Huggy should go out tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hutch smiled.

“I still wish you could be my best man,” Starsky said woefully, his dark blue eyes meeting Hutch’s lighter ones.

“I’m sorry, Starsk, really I am. You’ll never know how much…but I can’t,” Hutch said truthfully, his gaze holding his partner’s. It occurred to him then that they really weren’t partners anymore. Not on the police force, not in business, and not in bed.

“It’s okay,” Starsky replied. “You’re here.”

“Are you happy, Starsk? I mean, really happy?” Hutch asked, a lump the size of a baseball forming in his throat.

“I’m happy,” Starsky answered. “Really happy.”

“Then I’m glad.” Hutch smiled. “Hey, I have a surprise for you. A present for you and Joanie. I’m going to give it to you tomorrow night at the rehearsal dinner.”

Starsky felt inexplicably blue for having just told his friend how happy he was. “That’s great, Hutch. I can’t wait.” He smiled back.

oooOOOooo

 

That night Huggy, Hutch, and Starsky hit the town, drinking, dancing, laughing, and generally cutting up. It brought back so many memories of the past years, that Hutch felt as though he were ending a chapter in his life. He supposed he was. What would this next chapter bring? Did he really care since it wasn’t going to include Starsky? Chapter one had been his less-than-idyllic childhood and teen years, and Chapter two had been all about Starsky. Chapter three didn’t matter to Hutch.

Drunk and disorderly, the three men returned to the hotel and collapsed haphazardly on the beds. The morning found Huggy snoring on one king sized bed, and Starsky and Hutch entwined in the other. Starsky was the first to awaken, and he pulled Hutch closer, nuzzling into his soft neck before realizing where he was. His eyes flew open, a really close-up view of Hutch’s right ear the first thing he saw. He breathed in, the scent of him sensual and familiar, stirring his cock to life. Starsky pulled back, rolling off the bed and heading quickly for the bathroom.

The movement awakened Hutch, who sat up and looked at the clock. “Wake up, Hug,” he called to the prone man snoring across the room.

Huggy stirred. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost noon. We have a lot to do.” The toilet flushed. “Does your head hurt like mine does?” he asked.

“Twice as much, I feel sure,” Huggy answered, rolling over with a moan. Hutch got up and dug some aspirin out of his suitcase. He got three out for himself and three for Huggy. “Starsk! You need some aspirin?”

“No, I’m okay,” Starsky’s muffled reply came just before the sound of the faucet turning on. He opened the door, toothbrush in his mouth.

“What do you gentlemen have in mind for breakfast?” Huggy asked, taking his aspirin with some warm water from a cup beside the bed.

Hutch made a face. “I don’t know if my stomach can handle breakfast,” he said. “I’ll be lucky if the aspirin doesn’t come back up.”

“Lovely visual,” Starsky grinned around the toothbrush and went to spit.

When he came back, he was tucking his shirt in. “I have to go. There are a million things I gotta do. The rehearsal dinner is at six.”

“As your best man, don’t I have certain duties and obligations?” Huggy asked, hand to his aching head.

“Traditionally, I guess so, but the stuff I gotta do is all minor. Just recuperate from your hangover so you can hand the ring to me tomorrow. Hutch, what time does your flight leave?”

“Nine o’clock,” Hutch answered, not looking at him. He didn’t want to think of the ring that Starsky would place on Joanie’s finger, promising all of the love he had to give for the rest of his life.

“Okay, that should work out fine. The rehearsal and dinner should only take a coupla hours.”

“And I should have time to give you your gift before I go,” Hutch smiled. Starsky looked him in the eyes, smiling back, if a little sadly. He grabbed his shoes, told them he’d see them at the church at six, and left.

“Man, you are one good actor,” Huggy commented, pulling on his own shoes.

“I guess all those undercover assignments paid off,” Hutch replied morosely.

 

_Chapter Six_

 

When six o’clock rolled around, everyone was assembled at the church. Hutch hadn’t given much thought for the actual rehearsal, which came damn near close to killing him to watch. Although it was basically just a run-through of the ceremony, it was enough to tear Hutch’s heart to shreds and stomp it into the floor. By the time it was over, he was a nervous wreck. Huggy put a hand on his back, knowing the pain he was in. Hutch found himself extremely glad that he was escaping this hell that night.

Dinner was held in a private room at the country club. Hutch was nervous about his gift to Starsky, but he knew that it was right. He so very much wanted to show his friend how much he loved him, and to wish him and Joanie well. It wouldn’t be easy for him on many levels, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for the man who had always been there for him.

Trying not to look at the happy couple, Hutch made conversation with Joanie’s maid-of-honor and her boyfriend throughout the lavish meal.

When it was over, Huggy made a toast to the couple as Hutch left the room to get ready. The wedding party consisted of about thirty people, including Hutch, and Starsky and Joanie’s respective families. It was a bigger audience than he felt comfortable with, but then again, he didn’t feel comfortable with any audience at all. As he got his guitar and motioned to the two violin players he had hired ahead of time and had waiting in the bar, he adjusted his suit and tie and entered the small lit area where he’d placed a stool and microphone.

At Huggy’s introduction, the guests turned their chairs around expectantly.

Hutch took his seat, his guitar balanced on his lap, cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone. “As you know, Dave Starsky is my best friend. What you may not know is that he was my partner on the police force for ten years. We went to the police academy together, and we watched each others backs every day. There have been many highs and lows over the years, and I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world. Now, Starsky knows that I don’t like to sing in public.” He met Starsky’s eyes, and thought he saw wetness there. “And now he knows that he’s the only person that I will do it for. This song is for Dave and Joanie. I wish them all the happiness in the world.”

Hutch took a deep breath, closed his eyes, willing himself to be calm and do the very best he could. He knew in his heart that he was singing to Starsky. He hadn’t lied when he’d told his friend that he’d been practicing to sing this to him. He’d thought it would be for a birthday or anniversary—never imagined in a million years it would be for Starsky’s wedding. Every word in the song conveyed his love for Starsky. The glorious aspects of nature were a perfect comparison for what he felt for the man he loved with every ounce of his being.

He began to play, the violinists behind him ready to join in.

When his voice rang out, it was true and beautiful, and it completely captivated his audience.

“ _You fill up my senses… like a night in a forest  
Like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain   
Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean   
You fill up my senses--- come fill me again._ ”

At the next verse, Hutch couldn’t help himself and looked directly into Starsky’s eyes, his heart in every word he sang.

  
” _Come let me love you, let me give my life to you  
Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms   
Let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you   
Come let me love you, come love me again_.”

As the violins played the instrumental verse along with Hutch’s guitar, Hutch hummed along with the tune.

“... _Let me give my life to you_ ,” he sang as the violins soared,

” _Come let me love you, come love me again_.”  
  
” _You fill up my senses like a night in a forest  
Like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain   
Like a storm in the desert…_ ”

His high note was pure and clear, and then Hutch’s eyes met Starsky’s again on the line that always made him think of his eyes…

“... _like a sleepy blue ocean  
You fill up my senses, come fill me again_.”

Starsky was spellbound. From the moment Hutch started singing, he found himself unable to move. His heart was caught in his throat and its wild beating made him dizzy. When the blond looked directly into his eyes and sang the second verse, Starsky thought he would burst with love and longing. A moment in time flashed through his mind of Hutch singing that very song on the couch of their living room. The living room of the house they lived in together.

Starsky realized he had remembered something from that blank year.

Then another moment in time burst before his eyes. It had come to him before in a fragment, but this time it was a full, Technicolor extravaganza. He and Hutch were in their bed… _their bed_ … because he now knew it belonged to both of them. They were naked and wrapped in each other’s arms, their mouths moving together, tongues sliding, hands roaming. And this time the memory didn’t scare him. He felt all the love for his partner that he’d always had, times one hundred.  _Oh my god, we’re together!_ Starsky thought. He knew then that Hutch was his soul mate. That he’d forgotten him, and Hutch had known it all along. He had sung that song for him, not to jar his memory as it had done, but as a tribute to their love. And he had done it even though the mere thought of singing in front of other people scared him to death. Starsky couldn’t swallow past the lump that had lodged in his throat.

As the song ended, Starsky stood up as everyone applauded. Joanie rushed forward and threw her arms around Hutch, exclaiming how beautiful his gift had been. Starsky’s eyes clung to Hutch’s over her shoulder. His lips parted. A photographer entered from the side and Joanie’s mother corralled the couple and their wedding party together for a picture. Then another. A toast was made by the maid-of-honor. The next time Starsky looked around, Hutch was gone.

“Where’d he go?” Starsky asked Huggy. “Where’d Hutch go?”

Huggy looked around the room. “I guess he took off. His plane leaves within the hour.”

Starsky panicked. What was he going to do? He’d made a terrible mistake, and now Hutch was leaving for Europe for who knew how long!

“Huggy, I gotta go.”

“What do you mean you gotta go?” Huggy took Starsky by the shoulders. “If this is cold feet, man, you better get over it!”

“Huggy, I remember! I remember Hutch! The two of us! The past year! I remember!”

Huggy took a deep breath. “ _Now_ you remember! You’ve got some timing, you know that?”

“Please, Huggy! You gotta explain to Joanie.”

“WHAT?”

“No, I mean, just tell her I had to go after Hutch before he left. I’ll be back.” And he raced from the room, not wanting to waste another minute.

The drive to LaGuardia airport was hell. Traffic was awful, and Starsky could only hope that Hutch’s cab was having as much trouble as he was. He still wasn’t used to driving Joanie’s car, and he kept hitting the headlights instead of the turn signal. He prayed that Hutch would miss his flight. He had to catch up with him and right this wrong.

The events of the past several weeks replayed in his mind as he drove, tormenting him as he realized how much pain Hutch had to have been going through. Starsky had asked Joanie to visit in order to tell her about his relationship with Hutch. He’d wanted to share their joy with her. In retrospect, knowing what he knew now, that truth might have hurt her, for she had held hopes of getting back with Starsky.

Starsky cursed as he had to sit through yet another traffic light, putting more distance between him and Hutch.

What must it have been like for Hutch when he forgot their love, their home, and their commitment to one another? Starsky wondered. He could only begin to imagine. And what had Hutch done? He’d stepped aside so that Starsky could be happy. He’d come to wish him well, for god’s sake. He’d sung them a song! And not only a song, but a song that must have dredged up a lot of painful memories.

Starsky couldn’t love his partner more than he did at that moment. His heart was absolutely full with it. He knew now that he’d latched on to Joanie out of fear—fear that he’d felt when his true feelings for Hutch has started to reemerge from his subconscious. It had scared him, the same way it had briefly scared both he and his partner when it had happened the first time. But they had worked through that together.

Starsky sighed when he thought of how he was going to hurt Joanie and her family. Not to mention his own mother.

He pushed all of that aside and concentrated on getting into the short term parking area of the airport. When he’d found a space, he bounded out of the car and ran for the airport doors. He had to scan the departures when he got inside, unsure of exactly what part of Europe Hutch was headed for. He ran up to the desk and asked if they would page his friend for him. “Please…it’s an emergency! Er, his wife’s having a baby—triplets! If he leaves, he’ll miss it!” The sympathetic woman at the desk grabbed up the microphone. “Paging Kenneth Hutchinson. Please come to the front desk immediately. Kenneth Hutchinson.”

Starsky was still scanning the departures, looking for 9 PM flights to anywhere in Europe. There were several. Where would Hutch go? Rome? Paris? Barcelona?

When Hutch didn’t come to the front desk and Starsky saw that it was 9:15, he sagged against the counter.

He had missed him.

_  
_

_Chapter Seven_

The next several days were a terrible blur. Starsky broke things off with Joanie, watched her cry, tried to explain what had happened when he’d regained his memory---but it was painfully obvious that he had used her---never really loved her. Nothing he could say could make that any better, or lessen the embarrassment of her having to call off their wedding the evening before it was to take place. He’d thought her father was going to punch him, and he wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. But he’d held back, settling on shooting venom with his eyes. Joanie’s mother, however, slapped him squarely on the face.

The evening he’d spent with his own mother hadn’t been quite so dramatic, but her stony silences weren’t much better. Nick had been strangely supportive, perhaps glad that his perfect older brother had fallen from grace. Whatever the reason, Starsky had been glad to have an ally. When the time finally came for him to fly home, he did so quickly and with relish.

Returning to the house he’d shared with Hutch was difficult. All the memories had returned, and now Starsky felt bereft. When would his partner come home? He was somewhere in Europe thinking Starsky was married. Starsky had phoned Hutch’s father, asking him for information, only to find out that Hutch had lied about working for him. He was really backpacking across Europe, of all things! And his exact itinerary was unknown. All Starsky could do was wait, and hope that Hutch would return. Checking with the bank, he found that the house was paid up for three months. He hoped that meant that his partner planned to be back at the end of that time. He left word with the bank that, if he should call, he was to contact Starsky at their house or business immediately.

After doing all he could do about it, Starsky concentrated on their landscaping business. He poured over the paperwork, talked with clients, arranged deliveries, and dealt with employees. He wanted everything to be running smoothly by the time Hutch got back from Europe.

When the end of the three months came and went, Starsky became frantic. He called the bank every day, reminding them that it was imperative that he speak to Hutch should he contact them. He was on a first name basis with the operator there, and she took to finding out for him whether his partner had called so she could relay it to him without him having to go through the channels. The due date for the mortgage was the twentieth of the month, and Starsky knew that, unless something had happened to him, Hutch wouldn’t let that day go by without arranging payment. That brought on a new fear that something bad had happened to his partner. He could be injured somewhere and Starsky wouldn’t even know. He wondered, if Hutch were to send word to Joanie in New York, would she let Starsky know? He thought that she would, even though he’d hurt her. And what if Hutch was dead? His i.d. lost? He shuddered at the thought. He cursed himself for the umpteenth time for not having shown more interest in Hutch’s plans. If he only knew where he might be, he could follow him. But he’d been so damned wrapped up in his wedding plans…so determined to push aside the feelings and short flashes of memories that had confused him.

With only three days left until the mortgage was due, Starsky was losing hope. He spent the evening refinishing the deck, wanting to keep his hands busy. The radio was tuned to a rock and roll station, turned up loud so he could hear it outside. Waddles the raccoon kept making her way back and forth across the back lawn, stopping occasionally to rub her little hands together and turn her masked face this way and that. Starsky thought he heard a car door slam. Waddles must’ve heard it, too, for she scurried into the bushes. Starsky stood, listening. An engine faded in the distance. Frowning, he stepped off the deck and into the house.

A key turned in the front lock. The door opened. Starsky was rooted to the spot. The living room light flicked on. And there stood his partner.

Hutch’s eyes widened. “Starsky?” he said, disbelieving. “What are you doing here?” He looked around. “Where’s Joanie?”

Starsky was at a total loss as to what to say. Hutch was tanned, unshaven, and his sun-bleached hair had grown a little long. He looked beautiful. “Hutch,” he finally croaked.

Hutch took a step forward, shutting the door and setting his bag down. “Are you all right?”

Starsky nodded. “I am now.”

Hutch started toward him. “Buddy, you’re scaring me.” And then Starsky’s feet came unglued from the floor and he rushed forward, throwing himself into Hutch’s arms. Hutch took a step backward, almost toppling over, and held his shaking partner in his arms. “What’s wrong, Starsk?” he crooned, stroking his hair. “Has something happened?”

“I—I’ve been waiting for you to come home,” Starsky sobbed, clutching him. “For three months!”

Hutch pulled back and looked down into his wet face. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Hutch, when you sang that song at the rehearsal dinner, I remembered everything! And then you were gone, and I went after you, but I didn’t get there in time—“

“Shh, shhhh…it’s okay,” Hutch held him tightly to him, their hearts pressed together, Hutch’s accelerating to the point of pain. “I can’t believe it. I had no idea that you’d remembered!”

“Why haven’t you called Huggy or the bank or your parents? I told everyone I could think of to have you call me!”

Hutch let out a breath. “I’m sorry---I never thought to. I was just going from one place to another, kind of like a zombie. I didn’t really even see many phones. So you remember? Everything? And … the wedding…”

“Didn’t happen,” Starsky finished for him. “I couldn’t marry Joanie when I’m in love with you.”

Hutch was dumbfounded. With a chuff of laughter, Starsky pressed his lips to the sensuous mouth that hung open, thrusting his tongue inside to meet and dance with its mate. Hutch trembled, wrapping his arms tightly around Starsky and holding him as they kissed.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” he whispered when they pulled away.

“Me, too,” Starsky answered. “I was starting to think you were gonna stay in Europe. Maybe found yourself a little French girl. Or guy.”

Hutch laughed, holding Starsky even tighter. “No way. God, Starsk—“

“Hutch, why didn’t you say something to me? Why did you let me get involved with Joanie again?”

“I didn’t think you were exactly receptive to, well, us. And before I knew it, you were in bed with her. I had to lay there listening to the two of you—“

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Hutch. No wonder you stopped coming home.”

“I couldn’t stand it,” Hutch admitted, staring at his partner like he still couldn’t believe he was there.

“I can’t believe I did this to you,” Starsky said mournfully. “I feel awful. I’ve been thinking about it all this time…how you must’ve felt. I can’t believe I forgot it all. Forgot us. What we are to each other.”

Hutch kissed his forehead. “You couldn’t help it.”

“Hutch, I love you. So goddamn much.” He clutched Hutch’s shirt. ”You gotta know it. Even with Joanie…I loved you and it scared me. I didn’t know what was going on with me. Kinda like when it first happened.”

“I understand, Starsk.” Hutch kissed a tear away. “We’re together now. No real harm done. Well, except for Joanie…what did you say to her?”

“I told her the truth. She hates me, I think. I know her parents do. And ma’s mad. Nick’s a happy camper, though.”

Hutch smiled wryly and kissed his partner again. Taking his hand, he led him over to the couch and they sat down together. “I just can’t grasp it. I thought you’d be married and starting a family,” Hutch whispered, staring at him hard.

“Kiss me, Hutch,” Starsky demanded, his voice tight.

Hutch didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned in, leading with his tongue. Their lips met a second later, and they clutched one another, kissing fiercely and thoroughly, trying to convey their feelings with their mouths. Then their fingers were moving, frantically undoing buttons, pushing away fabric, touching skin. Pinching, stroking, trailing…

“H-hutch…” Starsky’s voice had taken on that breathy quality, and Hutch pulled him closer, skin against skin, their bodies writhing together on the couch, friction striking a fire between them. A sob escaped Hutch’s lips as they climaxed together, and Starsky kissed his eyelids, his nose, his chin. “I love you forever, forever,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Hutch answered, meeting his lips and kissing him again and again.

As the sun sank below the trees, they lay entwined on the couch, sticky and sweaty, but thoroughly happy. Starsky told Hutch how he’d been working with the business for the past three months, and they made plans for the future. Hutch described his adventures in Europe, leaving out the moments of despair, but Starsky guessed.

They were left with the feeling that they were stronger than ever. Starsky rose from the couch and held out his hand, pulling Hutch to his feet. Together they made their way to their bedroom to make love until morning.

 

_finis_

 


End file.
